


Prince of Darkness

by Miss Anne Trophy (Rahndom)



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, I'm salty and I know it, Ignores Digimon Tri, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, ignores Epilogue, this is an old fic of mine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-07-08 20:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahndom/pseuds/Miss%20Anne%20Trophy
Summary: They met under the moonlight years before they were to become enemies. Two creatures marked by the night, one marked for death, one thriving in it. Their meeting would leave a mark that would cause ripples none of them would understand until it was too late.Myotismon left a parting gift for the world that he had hoped to rule.Now the group must go back to stop the the Digiworld from falling appart. But the children are not children anymore and their complex relations will expose their own darness to them.**This is an old fic of mine I'm trying to pick back up**





	1. Prologue

  
  
The night was pitch black, and silence spread over Odaiba. Children were sleeping, huddled together, trying to find some comfort without their parents.  
  
Outside, dark digimon roamed the streets in search of the eighth chosen child. The one that might lead to the downfall of Lord Myotismon. The one that held light and power beyond most of their understanding.  
  
Inside, however, there was only darkness.  
  
Myotismon growled low on his throat, staring at the sea of children sleeping on the floor. The annoying little creatures proved to be a failure. None were the one he was looking for, and had created a cacophony of crying and whining throughout the day.  
  
He wished he could kill them all at once, so he could stop smelling their human stench.  
  
He would have to wait, however. Once the eighth child was annihilated, all the others would follow and his reign would last forever.  
  
He just had to be patient.  
  
Suddenly, among the shadows, he could see movement.  
  
A cruel smirk sprawled over his lips.  
  
Perfect, he was getting hungry anyway.  
  
With measured steps, just to make the less amount of noise and still be a threatening creature, he approached the moving shadow, his smirk widening just slightly as he saw the little boy approach a window.  
  
"Aren't you tired, little one? Why aren't you sleeping like your friends?" he asked, growing amused when the boy tensed and, slowly, turned to him.  
  
He had seen the boy before, of course, he had been one of the first, dragged with his parents and an older sister who had screamed her little head off at the sigh of him.  
  
None of them were the one he was looking for.  
  
The boy stared at him with honey-colored eyes that held no fear, but the tear tracks across his cheeks were evidence enough for the old vampire.  
  
"Those are not my friends," the boy answered with a shrug. "No one wants to befriend a corpse."  
  
A corpse, huh? Interesting.  
  
"Why would such a lively thing as yourself feel like a corpse?" he asked, kneeling by the boy. He was so tiny.  
  
"I was supposed to die, some months ago, there is something wrong with my blood and the doctors told my parents there was nothing they could do," the boy confessed, his eyes set outside. "I didn't die, though, not yet and I guess that makes me more or less the same as you."  
  
His bravery only got him a raised gold eyebrow.  
  
"Interesting," he mocked. "I hadn't expected to meet one of my kind here." Deep inside, he decided he would gain this brat's trust. Only so he could taste the betrayal in his blood when he breathed his last dying gasps.  
  
He smiled.  
  
"Your family must have been relieved you didn't die, then," he said softly.

 

The boy nodded.  
  
"They were, for a while. Jun-chan used to hover around me, she held my hand a lot, just to make sure I wouldn't fall dead right then and there," he shrugged. "Now I think the wait is hurting them, they know it will happen and waiting for it is painful, so I think they are moving on without me. Jun-chan has a boyfriend now.”  
  
"Jun-chan being..."  
  
"My sister, she raised me so far."  
  
The vampire frowned a little, ah, the older girl. He could remember their resemblance.  
  
And yet.  
  
The boy looked even smaller then, than he had before, and that same selfless courage sparkled in his eyes. The courage coming from someone that accepted death a long time ago and can stand the time he has left proudly.  
  
Quite an interesting find.  
  
If only the boy hadn't been so young, he would have been a delicious treat.  
  
He curled his lips slightly, a frown marring his face.  
  
"Tell me your story, Mr. Vampire?" the boy asked softly, his eyes, shining gold, regarded him seriously.  
  
"My story?" Myotismon asked, surprised. "Why would someone want my story?"  
  
The boy lowered his face for a few minutes, deep in thought. Shadows played with his features, hiding them from the vampire's eyes.  
  
Then he looked up and locked his fiery eyes with Myotismon's.  
  
"That's what I collect," he said simply. "The moment you leave, that's it. Your are done. But if you leave your story, it's almost like you will remain here. At least inside someone else's memory."  
  
It was a different concept altogether, to leave a part of yourself into someone else. It brought ideas to him.  
  
"Your own idea of immortality?" he asked, interested. The boy nodded.  
  
"Setsuko-san told me we could exchange stories a year ago, she was sick too. I have my parent's stories, and my sister's and her boyfriend's too," he explained. "They are mine now, a part of me. They'll never leave me now."

 

“And these Setsuko-san you speak of?” Myotismon asked, confused.  
  
“She passed,” the boy said simply. “But she is still a part of me too, so she’s not completely gone.”  
  
"And now you want to know mine," the older man stated.  
  
"Yes, you'll be a part of me then,” the boy nodded. “If I die you will feel it, I will be a part of you. If you die I will cry your death and remember your story for all times. You and I will be immortal then."  


He had the wisdom of an older man and was trapped into the body of a human child. And those eyes, sometimes brown, sometimes golden.  
  
Those eyes had the spark of miracles awaiting.

  
Without really knowing how or why, he sat down by the window and pulled the little boy into his arms, covering his cold form with his cape.

 

The boy was special, he knew.  
  
"I was born in a world far different from yours," he began, feeling a little surprised when small hands took hold of his own and didn't let go until he had finished his tale.  
  
As the sun started to appear over the city, Myotismon laid the sleepy boy down on the floor, his hand unconsciously caressing his short auburn hair.  
  
"Your tale is sad," the boy yawned.  
  
"So is yours," Myotismon answered, his eyes locked onto the child's.  
  
"Now you are a part of me, and I'm a part of you," the child smiled tiredly, another yawn breaking out from his lips.  
  
The vampire nodded.  
  
"Go to sleep, little one. My minions will watch your sleep," he whispered, unsure. The boy nodded slowly, closing his eyes.  
  
"Good night, Lord," he whispered with a sigh.  
  
The vampire smiled, his expression, unknowingly reflecting his sudden fondness for the boy.  
  
"Good night."  
  
Once the boy's breathing became even and his whole frame relaxed in deep sleep, the vampire let his smile fall. His body filled with reluctance to see the boy go down with the others. This one was special. This one had a part of him, just as he had a part of the little one with him now.  
  
After listening of his tale of cold and neglect, locked in a cold room away from the sun, filled with tubes and nurses with glass cold eyes, of whispered conversations between parents that didn't want to care for a dead son, and doctors that had lost hope long ago. He decided this one was a kindred spirit.  
  
This boy was his now.  
  
Maybe that was how chose digimon felt, when meeting with their destined partners. The feeling of connection and bonding.  
  
He frowned.  
  
It wasn't such a bad idea.  
  
Others had done it before him. He was sure he had heard of them.  
  
Slowly, he bit his own hand and let some of his cursed blood spill from his palm and into the boy's partly open mouth. Now, under the harsh light of daylight he could see the boy's pale sallow skin and the dark rings under his eyes, the skinny complexion and fragile frame.  
  
This boy was really ill. He was most possibly going to die soon.  
  
"You won't die, now," he whispered into the child's ear. "You will bloom like a flower under the sun, you'll grow strong and beautiful, away from death and despair. And when I'm king you will come with me and be my little prince, my own chosen. Just wait a little."  
  
The boy groaned softly, curling in his sleep.  
  
Myotismon let one last smile curl his lips before standing. He had the eighth child to find still, and a kingdom to build.  
  
No one would question this boy's miraculous recovery. He would make sure of it.  
  
And once he was ready, the boy would become the Dark Prince of his Kingdom.  
  
With a flare of his cape, the vampire walked away, his cold eyes scanning the last group of children he had to check over. Tailmon would most likely try to trick him again.  
  


******

  
The battle roared around him, Digimon and their partners putting their lives on the line for the future they believe in. He stared at it all with eyes that wanted to believe in one final miracle. One final push of their strength.  
  
Their enemy continued to struggle, refused to let go of his own dreams of grandeur and darkness.  
  
Suddenly Paildramon executed an attack their enemy could only dodge and those scornful blue eyes turn to their little group of warriors with disdain.  
  
Frigid blue eyes meet with honey colored ones.  
  
The roaring of battle stops, the heat and the smoke disappear. Suddenly chosen and enemy are floating around in a world of them both, untouched by time and space.  
  
A perfect replica of the human tower where their first meeting took place.  
  
The Digimon is staring at him, eyes wide and sorrowful in their understanding.  
  
"Little one," he says, a small pained smile curling his lips.  
  
"Lord," the boy whispers back in a greeting, his eyes full of pity.  
  
"You became a chosen one," the Digimon accuses, trying to mask the jealousy that courses through his veins. This boy should have been his chosen, his child. And now a weakling shares the bond with this wonderful creature. A bond that should have been his.  
  
The boy nods.  
  
"You gave me the strength to do so," he says gently. "I owe you my life."  
  
"Then why do you fight me!" the Digimon demands. "Why try to stop me! Have you no idea what I am trying to do?"  
  
The boy nods again, his eyes still that calm ocean of sunshine and miracles that he has dreamed about for years.  
  
"Because I want to save you," the boy says, a small smile on his face. "You told me your story, remember? A part of you is inside of me forever. I remember your story, your dream and your goals. You wanted justice in a world that sneered at you."  
  
"I'm getting it," the Digimon protests. "By doing this I can-"  
  
"No," the boy interrupts. "You have let the dream become twisted. You might not see it, but I do."  
  
"Twisted," the Digimon repeats, eyes wide. "Is that why you want to kill me now? Have you grown to hate me as well?"  
  
The boy shakes his head, burgundy locks falling into his eyes.  
  
"If I destroy the twisted you now, you will be given a second chance," he explains. "Not today, nor soon, but you will be born again and by then…"  
  
"Then…" the Digimon asks, sudden warmth blooming in his chest.  
  
"Then I will have built a wonderful world for you and your kin," he explains, hopeful eyes glinting. "A world where you will be happy, where every single Digimon will be happy."  
  
"That is your dream?" the Digimon questions, feeling the warmth in his chest expand and contract, the beating of his undead heart growing stronger.  
  
"That is my dream, yes," the boy replies. "The dream you only fueled with this life you shared with me."  
  
A sudden beam of light pierces the world they have found themselves in and the Digimon finds himself slowly disintegrating in a flare of colors and warmth. The hopes of every single child in the world is slowly melting him, reforming him in something new, something clean.  
  
He sends a last shriek of relief into the air as his last energy caresses his little one's wild hair.  
  
"Make your dreams come true," he whispers as death takes him by the hand in a merciful grasp.  
  
And then, everything goes quiet.  
  
"Good bye, Lord," the boy whispers gently as a single tear slides down chis cheek. Then he turns with a wider smile to his companion, the boy who shares a half of his heart and they both pretend those tears are of relief, instead of heartbreak over such a forced goodbye.  



	2. Chapter 2

The morning sun forced Daisuke to open his eyes with a soft groan of pain. His head ached and his limbs felt heavy and uncoordinated and he idly remembered it was because of the alcohol he had imbibed the night before.

Taichi's nineteenth birthday had to go with a bang, or so the brunette had promised, while gathering all of his friends in his small, one bedroom apartment. Only the boys, though, as he wanted to get drunk enough to make a fool of himself and not have his girlfriend of three years see him in such state.

With a short glance upwards Daisuke realized he was laying on the carpet by the T.V. with his head pillowed over one of the birthday boy's thighs. If the snoring by his ear was any indication to his identity. Strong arms were wrapped around his waist and the rhythmic breathing of his best friend told him he was not the only one to have passed out on the spot. Jyou's shoes peeked from over the sofa and Iori's shirtsleeve was resting over his senpai's leg.

A trail of Koichirou's clothes leading to Taichi's bedroom indicated the redhead was the only one smart enough to secure himself with a comfortable spot to sleep on while Takeru's torso seemed to be hanging head-down over the arm of another chair.

That only left Yamato to be located.

Oh, of course, noise in the Kitchen. Yamato, always the responsible adult he was, was the first to wake up, then.

He smiled lightly.

"I better go help him," he muttered softly, before trying to rise from his position.

Ken's arms tightened around him and a low growl escaped his parted lips.

"No," he whispered in sleep. "Dai stays, so cool and comfy."

Daisuke tried not to laugh as his best friend snuggled on his stomach and laid a wet, open-mouthed kiss in his skin. It would probably leave a mark, with the way the other young man was sucking and licking at his belly-button, and be another cause of a fight between the embarrassed genius and his fiery girlfriend, but the redhead couldn't make himself care.

Ken and Miyako had done nothing but fight for the last two months, Ken trying to tell his girlfriend to give him time, Miyako convinced her boyfriend is secretly trying to lure his best friend, no-good Daisuke, to his bed.

The child of courage and friendship was sick of seeing them argue and just wanted them to be done with it. They were his friends and so clearly unhappy with each other, so… why not part while they still could remain civil?

"Ken-chan," he whispered, as to not wake the others. "I really need to move."

"No," Ken replied forcefully, his teeth sinking on the cinnamon skin underneath his lips. "Cool, good."

Daisuke sighed.

Of course Ken had been the first to notice that after the fight with Belialmyotismon, Daisuke's skin temperature had dropped considerably. Late onset of low-blood pressure, the doctors had said after countless studies, nothing to be concerned about. The young man only had to make sure to drink warm fluids ever so often and to put on an extra sweater in the winter.

Daisuke shook his head, staring at the fingers in his hand not being currently crushed by his best friend's weight. His skin had grown paler over the years, and no matter how many hours he spent under the sun, nothing would turn it back into its usual caramel color. The doctors explained it with puberty, his parents fretted over another relapse of his former deathly condition. Daisuke sighed and kept to himself the comparison between his now colder and paler body to his secret savior's complexion.

Wouldn't that be worth of study? He thought to himself.

Yamato chose that moment to come into the living room, carrying mugs of steaming coffee that had Daisuke's mouth-watering from the smell alone. He slowly waved a hand in the blond's direction, hoping to catch his attention.

"Help me up?" he asked with a small smile. "Ken-chan won't let me move, he's biting me."

The blond rolled his sharp blue eyes and took hold of the younger genius' shirt, tugging him as hard as he could.

Another growl resounded around the room.

"Ken-chan," Daisuke tried.

"No," the other man said forcefully. "No, Dai."

"Oh, come on, Ken," Yamato sighed with a small growl of his own. Not in the mood to deal with stubborn drunks so early in the morning.

Ken only tightened his embrace.

"Ken-chan," Daisuke said with a small gasp. "It hurts."

As if a switch have been turned, the arms around him instantly released their hold while sleepy violet eyes opened to stare at the redhead in confusion.

"Dai-chan," Ken hissed. "I hurt you?"

Daisuke shook his head.

"Go back to sleep, Yamato and I are going to make breakfast, okay?" he said as he stood. Ken stared after him for a moment, the alcohol still making his cheeks flush.

"Come back soon," he said as he snuggled on the carpet once more. "You are so cool… feels nice."

"Sure thing, Ken-chan," Daisuke chuckled, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"He left you a hickey," Yamato mumbled as he handed the younger man a cup of steaming coffee.

The other man nodded, hands instantly wrapping around the cup to warm them up with a contented sigh.

"He tends to bite when he is comfortable," he explained, taking a short sip. "You get used to it."

"Poor Miyako," the blond sighed, leaning against the table, by Daisuke's side, bumping against his exposed hip with his own.

"Poor Miyako indeed," the redhead agreed.

One of Daisuke's warmed hands rose to his neck, where, sure enough, he found another hickey hiding behind his left ear.

"What happened last night after I passed out?" he asked, already imagining Ken's mortified face and Miyako's furious one.

Yamato hummed, pulling his jacket from one of the chairs and draping it around Daisuke's shoulders, making the younger man smile at him gratefully.

"Not much," he said simply. "You passed out first and made Taichi's thigh your pillow. Takeru wanted to doodle on your face and Ken told everyone you had low blood pressure and that they would be the shittiest friends ever if the teased you about it."

"He worries too much," Daisuke nodded, shaking his head.

"He was right, though, no one thought alcohol would affect you differently," Yamato argued. "Also he was very vocal and … very drunk."

Daisuke laughed.

"Sounds like him," he mussed.

"He then tried to take you to sleep in Taichi's bedroom, but Taichi said he was warm enough and not to bother you, so your pal decided to camp by your side and wait Taichi out to take you to bed, and well..." Yamato shrugged. "He passed out first."

The redhead sighed, fondly exasperated.

"He's a good friend," the blond said.

"The best," Daisuke agreed.

A groan from somewhere around the room made them both smile.

"Something tells me we don't want six hungry and hungover mouths demanding food," Yamato told Daisuke.

"I'll help, if we hurry we can have it all by the time most are awake," the teen laughed, drinking his coffee in on gulp, moaning in happiness when its warmth spread through him.

The two made their silent way towards the kitchen, already planning to cook as quietly as possible so their friends could sleep a little bit longer when their plans found themselves thwarted by the almost blinding white light that suddenly invaded the small apartment, rising all of the sleeping young men in varying states of shock, pain and noise.

"What the f-!" Taichi yelled, shielding his eyes from the light.

"Ack! My head!" moaned Takeru, trying to disentangle himself from the uncomfortable position he had been sleeping in.

"Wha- Jyou-senpai!" cried Iori as the older man jumped up and dropped him to the floor.

Ken simply hissed like a snake, shielding his face with his hands before trying to hide behind the couch.

Daisuke and Yamato looked at each other with a sigh before returning into the living room and taking a place by the couch.

"Good morning, Gennai-san," Yamato greeted sarcastically. "As dramatic as ever."

The hologram currently standing in the middle of the room stared at them with wide eyes before bursting into a healthy laugh.

"Oh, I'm sorry, children," he said unapologetically. "I believe I forgot the date. Happy birthday, Taichi-kun, by the way."

Koichirou peeked his head from the bedroom, eyes squinting against the light.

"Is this not a social call, then?" he asked, rubbing a hand over one of his eyes.

"I'm afraid not," the man said with a small shake of his head. "I'll give you a few minutes to collect yourselves, children, but we must talk."

All the young men groaned as many made their way towards the bathroom and others grasped the cups of coffee Yamato had provided with a grateful moan. Slowly, all of them made their way towards the couch Yamato and Daisuke had claimed for themselves, Taichi squeezing between them both while Takeru sat on the arm by his brother. Iori, being the youngest, sat on the floor by Daisuke's and Taichi's legs while Ken, feeling the weakest of them all, rested his head on his best friend's lap.

Jyou raised an eyebrow at the action, but remained silent as he pushed an armchair over for him and Koichirou.

Gennai stared at the men before him, now no longer little boys trying to find a way home or to save their world from a catastrophe, and felt infinitely proud. A part of him felt like he had nurtured these boys into adulthood with his teachings, his guidance.

He could only hope their new-found maturity would lead them into a path for success.

"What seems to be the crisis then, Gennai-san?" Koichirou asked, eyes already set and calculating.

"Not so much of a crisis, but a problem nonetheless," the man said, making himself comfortable while sitting on this air. "It is the balance of the Digiworld that has been compromised, and while the Digimon themselves are due to solve this problem, it would be safer for all parts involved that you, the chosen ones, would be there to see it all come to a peaceful end."

"I don't seem to follow, Gennai-san," Jyou frowned. "If the balance of the Digiworld is compromised, something must be done!"

"Something is being done indeed, Jyou-kun, however, not all

parties are pleased with the outcome," Gennai explained, shaking his head. "After many years of peaceful interaction, I'm afraid the Digiworld's stability is starting to shake from its most basic core."

"Why?" Taichi asked, tilting his head.

Gennai sighed, not sure how to explain to his children the problem that had risen without any warning in their beloved world.

"The base of the Digiworld relays on the power of all three major races of it, the data Digimon, led by the wise Leomon, the Vaccines following the teachings of the legendary Seraphymon. The Virus, however…" Gennai said.

"They have no leader," Ken muttered, understanding.

"But the Virus Digimon were evil," Iori frowned, hands clenching in his lap.

"Evil, yes, but necessary," Gennai admonished. "It is important for the Digiworld to hold its balance. All three powers have to be in the same standing, a leader for each, a control of each."

"So, because there is no Viral King, the Digiworld might be affected," Yamato surmised with a shake of his head. "What happened to the powerful Virus we have encountered, then? Any could take the reins and just be done with it."

"It is not that simple," the old man said. "Viral Digimon are not like the other types of Digimon, they are warriors and as such they settle their differences. Since this debacle started, Primary Village has been flooded with Digi-Eggs and their supplies are running short."

"They are killing each other," Taichi said in surprise.

"Not really," Gennai sighed. "It's not them that are killing each other; it's the power they are supposed to wield as the leader."

"What… do you mean, Gennai-san," Iori asked, wide green eyes full con fearful confusion.

"Viral Digimon are religious folks," Gennai said. "They believe that Apocalymon is their god, the source of their creation, and since you Chosen Children sealed his dark influence, he can only communicate with his subjects through their chosen leader, their King."

"So, none of the applicants can withstand the power and they die?" Jyou mussed, a thoughtful frown on his brow.

"In a way," Gennai agreed. "Myotismon was the last King of the Virus and as such he left a very specific will of his own. A way for his successor to know what to do, should he or she find themselves unworthy of the power they were supposed to wield."

"A… will," Yamato mimicked, eyes wide.

The older man reached inside the sleeve of his robes and produced a small golden medallion, one terribly familiar for the older chosen.

"A Digi… Tag," Koichirou whispered in awe. "Myotismon actually left a Digitag for his successor?"

"At his last years of life, Myotismon believed that only the connection to a chosen child would be able to save a Viral King from the corrupting influence of Apocalymon's power. He however, could never bond with his chosen child and therefore, succumbed to the influence himself."

"That means not all Virus Digimon are evil," Ken mussed, a hand on his chin trying to prevent the sudden shaking of his hands. Daisuke placed a hand on his shoulder but his eyes were set on the golden tag, feeling small and heartbroken all of a sudden.

"Just like no human is intrinsically evil," Daisuke said, a small, miserable pull of his lips making him swallow. "We have only met evil and corrupted Virus Digimon, but we can't assume it has always been that way."

"True," Yamato agreed, eyeing the tag himself and feeling inexplicably frightened by its intensity.

"Then what is it that we have to do?" Jyou asked, ever the practical man.

"Your courage and powers are respected throughout the Digiworld," Gennai said, a small smile on his face. "Therefore, the two remaining powers, the Vaccine and the Data, have agreed that it is you, the Chosen Children, who must deliver this tag to its rightful place on Myotismon's castle and make sure that only a worthy new King can lay its hands on it."

"What about the Chosen Child," Taichi asked then, not understanding really, if there was another one like them, shouldn't he face his or her responsibilities like all of them had?

Gennai shook his head.

"There is no such a child yet in this world, or so I've been able to gather," he said sadly. "The Virus Digimon have agreed to try and bond with the tag and the crest inside, and whoever gets chosen to be the next King will rule in wait of his or her chosen's arrival."

"Sounds like piece of cake to me," Takeru said with a grin. "Another adventure for us all!"

Gennai shook his head.

"I'm afraid not all of you might come in this adventure, Takeru-kun, due to the unfortunate nature of the crest."

"Unfortunate… nature…" Ken said softly, already fearing the response.

Gennai closed his eyes silently, concentrating for a second. The Tag in his hand began to glow a faint purple color, before the crest showed itself in the glittering onyx.

"This, children, is the crest of Darkness and many of you would be corrupted, should you come in contact with it."

The boys gasped.

Ken shrank from the tag as if it could physically hurt him. Taichi jumped in his seat, ready to call forth his partner. Jyou and Koichirou studied the crest with analytical interest while Yamato placed a protective arm around his brother's shoulders.

Daisuke, on the other hand, stared at the crest with a small, sorrowful smile on his face.

'Oh, Lord,' he thought with sadness. 'You were trying to help me all along…'

"We'll take the mission," he said, rubbing his best friend's shoulders in order to sooth him. "Danger or not, corruption or not, we can't let the Digiworld plummet, right guys?"


End file.
